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(One Small Problem, continued...)

“I’m sorry, what?” you say, incredulously, “Are you seriously saying that you like pineapple on pizza?”

Ash blinks and looks at you, confused by your tone. “Well sure,” she says, “I mean, pineapple on pizza is great. Everyone loves pineapple on pizza, don’t they?” An awkward moment passes as Ash’s drink-addled mind puts two and two together and finally reaches four. “Hang on…” she says, “You don’t mean… Wait, are you saying that you don’t like pineapple on pizza?”

A horrified expression crosses Ash’s face, pretty much mirroring the expression on your own face. Clearly she finds your position as incomprehensible and repellent as you find hers.

“Of course not!” you say. “pineapple on pizza is just… wrong. Bad and wrong. I mean, the world would be a better place without pineapple on pizza in it.”

The mood in the room has changed, and all the music and scented candles in the world could not mask it. You look across at the object of your desire and she is just as beautiful and desirable as ever — and yet you are also seeing her with fresh eyes. Another side to Ash. The darker side. The twisted side. The side that likes pineapple on pizza.

“Well,” says Ash, gazing at you across the table, a little disappointedly, “I guess you’re not exactly the person I thought you were.” Her legs, which had been stretched beneath the table to play with yours, withdraw back to her side. Ash looks you up and down — clearly enjoying the view — but with an air of wistful regret.

“It’s a real shame,” she says, “But this is a bit of a deal-breaker for me. Basically, anyone who doesn’t love pineapple on pizza can fight me…”

Wow. How could something that seemed so right, go so wrong, so quickly?

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